


I exist! I exist! I exist!

by clytemnestras



Series: fem feb 2021 [3]
Category: Euphoria (TV 2019)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2021, Gender Exploration, Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29154738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/clytemnestras
Summary: Sometimes she looks at the pictures again, held between her hands like a grenade that's already had it's key pulled.
Relationships: Rue Bennett/Jules Vaughn
Series: fem feb 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132580
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	I exist! I exist! I exist!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [preludes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/preludes/gifts).



> For the prompt at the [ficathon:](https://clockwork-hart1.dreamwidth.org/53291.html?view=1060907&posted=1#cmt1060907)  
>  _love on the internet_
> 
> (But also, I just haven't stopped thinking about Jules since her special)

Sometimes she looks at the pictures again, held between her hands like a grenade that's already had it's key pulled.

She looks at the pictures, the soft semi-swell of her breasts beneath ephemeral fabric she bought from the curtain store, sweet and insubstantial like candyfloss. The way Rue's fingers were always somehow clammy and cold at the same time when they arranged the gather, for her, the almost-touch of her on her chest, on her mouth. She looks at the arch of her own body, like a wave that can't crest, swimming in blue taffeta, in the blue panties she stole from Victoria's Secret years ago, stuffed down into the hole in her coat pocket, deep in the lining, so they wouldn't put her in therapy again.

It's like it is her, and it isn't her, the same way her voice sounds different in her own head. The same way her words sound different when she's texting someone that she wants to make love her. The same way it's an act, everything is an act, even just watching herself dance in the mirror.  


(She uses that voice sometimes, on Rue, playacts the same texts she used to send to men who would touch her with their rough hands and leave marks that she thought meant womanhood but that just meant I WAS HERE, a flag planted on the rocky surface of the moon. She uses that voice and Rue says,  _ are you fucking with me right now? _ And yeah, she is, but she isn't, because it's the language she shaped love into and she hasn't worked out how to change it, yet.)

She's so small, there, on the screen, vulnerable and un-tumbled. An undine, from that folklore book she tore pages out of and plastered all over her bedroom, the first sign of outsider-hood. That's it, isn't it? She knew she was different because she dreamed of being  _ something else _ , of having the kind of body that wasn't human at all, writing  _ changeling _ on her own arm in a sea-foam coloured gel-pen. Slicking herself in so much glitter she was more diamond than girl

Rue can see it. She knows, from the pictures, the angle of tenderness, the way she captures Jules laughing but catches on the tear welling in her eyes. The way the awkward angles of her limbs don't look like that, here, they're smooth and strange and alien. Jules is beautiful, and untouchable, even if the hickey on her throat betrays the touch.

She texts Rue, her hands shaking,  _ if I make a finsta do you think I'll go to jail? _

Rue's answer is quick, like she knew to be on call.  _ I won't let them take you anywhere. _

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr! [@bohemicns](http://www.bohemicns.tumblr.com), let's chat!


End file.
